Gift Worthy of a King
by RubyKohl
Summary: She had been hunted, caught, given as a gift. But she would not yield to the Goblin King...
1. Hunted

Her body tensed as the men fanned out around her. Ten, maybe twelve had hunted her throughout the night. At the beginning, there had been less – but reinforcements were called in as soon as her hunters found that their prey would not yield easily. Every man who attempted to take her as trophy were bloodied, wounded…her knives served her well.

"Enough."

The voice shot through the black expanse as the ringleader stalked towards her on the damp earth. She could feel him in the darkness – he was moving around her too quickly to see… to quickly to wound. Her grip tightened on silver blades as she readied herself for the attack.

Too late.

A large brown hand had found itself upon her chest and throat, slamming her against the tree. Red haze clouded her vision, the man's voice her head.

"Sarah Williams of the Aboveground, _you_ are a gift worthy of a king."

A sharpness on her chest sharpened her mind to the man's voice, but her mind spun as a blackening haze clouded her vision……Sarah William's body dropped to the forest floor, unconscious.

Inside the holding cell, Sarah Williams gingerly roused herself from her forced slumber as she rediscovered the fresh pain of the previous night. She was still whole, and her clothes intact. Her smile was feral. She could find no wounds, only bruises to counter the slashes she had inflicted upon her hunters.

Her blades. Slim fingers flashed against the sheaths upon her forearms – they were gone. Panicked, she bolted upright, immediately to come crashing against the floor.

Laughter from the far wall.

"Well, looks like the lady won't be moving round to soon." The voice belonged to the one who had spoken before - the man who had known her name.

"Where the hell are my blades?" Her question, meant to contain a commanding tone, tore from her throat in a painful gasp.

"The Lady speaks. The blades are out of harm's way – you'll get them when the time comes. Until then…"

"Awake Lady Williams, the time has come." That damnable voice sounded excited and amused, rousing Sarah from her stupor. Instinctively, Sarah's hands moved for her blades and were surprised to find them secure in her wrist sheaths, gleaming and ready for the next attack. The voice continued.

"Gold and jewels are not worthy of our King. Priceless artifacts can be tossed aside. Paintings burned." The voice rose to a shout. "Our King deserves better than these trinkets!" Scattered applause broke from outside the container. Sarah rose to her feet, her fingers tracing the blades that covered her wrists.

"For you, my King, we have hunted for three days. Your best men have given blood for this gift, magic for this gift. For all our efforts, this prize needed your power as well."

A rustle outside the container as a second man began to speak.

"Your generosity in granting your power to us defies even the most generous of gods. My Lord, many years we have searched, waited for an opportunity to give you something perfect." In unison, they spoke,

"For you, our King, we have found a gift that is worthy."

Sarah unsheathed both blades as the sides of the container fell away. She was surrounded by a mulitiude of people – there would be no quick way to escape. Unsheathing her blades, Sarah readied herself to attack, plans already forming in her mind about window on the far right, the large door to the left.

"Sarah."

From behind her came the voice that had haunted her dreams. Only one man's voice could reach the secret places within her that no man would ever be able to touch. Only on man's voice sent a thrill that ran her spine, crying for her to either run or attack.

Gods, no. Of it's own accord, her body slowly turned to face the one who spoke. Her body froze, her heart caught in her chest.

Sarah Williams was looking directly into the mismatched eyes of the Goblin King.


	2. Reunion

The hunts began soon after she had defeated the Goblin King and returned home with her brother. Fey had pursued her as a trophy – she was so unique a prize, that the one who could catch her would be renowned until even the Underground faded into memory. She was lucky that she had found a teacher, or rather, that he had found her. He had come to her on the street and merely said, "I know you are hunted. I know why you are hunted. I can train you to fight. I can train you to think. Come with me now, and we will begin." He was not fey, not demonic. He was a mortal, touched by something otherworldly; like her. She could feel the sensation of magic on his skin, now that she had come back from the labyrinth.

She had never known her grandfather had this kind of power.

Her grandfather trained her in everything he promised, and more. It had only been sheer luck that had allowed her to stay alive as long as she had. Intense training allowed the frequent hunts to become a normalcy in her life – they had become something to be dealt with, not hide from. She could defeat most of her adversaries, but it was the fey that proved to be her most difficult challenge. A single fey was hard, three fey were almost impossible, but when they hunted in packs, only her grandfather could send them away.

He had been sick on the night she was taken. She had left the house that they shared to drive out a hunter in her woods. She had believed it to be a single, weak fey. She was wrong. There had been six of them at the beginning, but through absolute panic and luck, her adrenaline had held them at bay for half of the night. They were the most extraordinary fighters she had ever seen – only adrenaline had allowed her to fend them off. She could not destroy any of them; they were too fast, too strong. Once the reinforcements had come, she fought with all she knew, but they had proved too much.

The world around her narrowed and warped, eliminating all lives but hers and that of the Goblin King. Thundered heartbeats measured her time as slowly, achingly graceful, the King stood from his throne. A feral smile emerged from his lips, lighting his eyes with pleasure at his new gift. Her body was covered in tight black, a fighting outfit. Her dark, wavy hair was wild from the night's fighting and spilled over her shoulders to come to the middle of her back. Her face was radiant. Emerald eyes and red lips drew the King's eyes around the face of the mortal that had defied him. Soon, she would defy him no longer.

He was dressed in breeches, a white shirt and a black jacket that played of the black and silver accents on his hair. Long black boots encased his legs, completing the ensemble.

Sarah was on fire. Anger flared to cloud her vision, panic seized her limbs as he began to stalk towards her, and gods, her heart cried in despair as her body tightened at the sight of him. Only the Goblin King could make her burn like this. She wanted to slap him, she wanted to run. What terrified her was that most of all, she wanted to bite the buttons off his shirt and slowly pull the clothes from his body. Sarah was trembling, but gods be damned if she would let him know it.

"It has been a long time Sarah." His voice tore through her, and her eyes shot back up to his.

"Not long enough." Her voice was angry, laced with venom. The crowd around her gasped at her words – who was she to speak like that to the King? Her body tensed, she waited for the retribution for her actions, but his smile only became wider.

"It is nice to see you after so long." His eyes flashed while his voice wrapped around her, and peirced her skin with painful little slashes. She had crossed the line, she knew. A sharp smile appeared on her own red mouth.

"Believe me, the pleasure is yours."

The smirk was wiped off her face as the King's anger roared at her, his power forcing her to kneel on the floor before him.

"A pet should always beware his master, especially when there is so much riding on her actions." She froze. He wouldn't. By the gods themselves…he wouldn't. Her eyes locked onto his, lowered to his cruel smile, then followed his outstretched hand to see them. Toby was lashed with thick rope into a permanent kneeling position. He was gagged, with a purple bruise covering his right eye. His clothes were torn, blood was everywhere.

Her grandfather looked much, much worse. He had used his magicks against them – and they had retailiated in turn. Blood covered his face, and power burns crawled up his arms and chest. His clothes were in bare rags, and as she lowered her eyes, she could tell that his leg had been broken.

Rage. Pure, undiluted rage coursed through her veins. She would kill those who had hurt them. Distantly, her mind told her that she was still under the vice of the Goblin King, but as she watched the guards drag her loved ones roughly across the floor she snapped. Simultaneously, she placed her both blades in her left hand and slid a dagger from the sheath in her boot.

"Fuck you. Fuck you Goblin King." It came as a whisper, but she knew he understood.

As the dagger flew from her hand, the room erupted in chaos.


	3. Rage

The roar of the room was deafening. Patrons of the court were scattering towards the wooden entrance, some standing numb, believing that they had witnessed the highest atrocity of the court…the attempted assassination of the King.

The blade had sunk deep into the white oak, millimeters from his face. She had good aim. Only the Goblin King's eyes gave way to his smile, the barest light sparked from mismatched depths. He watched as she moved to prepare, to face his retribution.

The King's Guard flowed through the room, curved and jagged silver flashing throughout the circle of warriors to surround the King's Gift. She would not leave the room alive.

The King's Guard was composed of the most elite hunters and warriors in all of faerie; strong, proud, intelligent and fiercely loyal to their King. Their power was supreme except for that of the Goblin King – his power could defeat each individually, and much worse, only _his_ power could override the combined strength of the group. Sarah had known they existed, and trained for the day they would meet; the day she would die.

But for what they had done to Toby, to her Grandfather, her _family_…….. they would bow to her blades before she was through.

He watched as his Sarah moved like liquid fire, to challenge his Guard. Slashing, twisting, dancing through the circle, oblivious to the chaos she had created to his court, her whole being concentrated upon the present threat of the incoming warriors.

Vengeance roared upon her mind, clouding her thinking, dulling the anguish for her family. Sweet Rage. Beautiful Rage. Sharp. Biting. Sarah reveled in the exquisite pain and sought revenge upon the warriors. One after the other, they fell to the slice of her blades. Crimson spattered the marble floor, some hers, most not. Few blades managed to taste her flesh – the owners of those lay on the floor, unmoving. The others were surrounding, closing. Weapons flashed, silver mixed with crimson as slowly, Sarah began to slow. Ruby lines appeared on her forearms the pain quietly shadowed the edges of her mind.

Laughter from one of the Guard was enough. Sarah gritted her teeth at his laughter. She would kill them all. Speed and skill – they were hers to command. The cry that parted her lips echoed around against the stained marble. An unholy smile graced Sarah's face as she obliterated the rest of the Guard, ensuring that one by one they joined those already broken upon the floor. Each tasted her blades – she made sure of it. Until one was left.

He was the Goblin King's second - the Captain of the King's Guard, the strongest, smartest, most loyal and most powerful of the entire unit. Of all of faerie, he could only be bested by his King, who fittingly called him Gabriel. His power was renown, his strength told in legend, his skill known only in myth. Once a god to the mortals of the Aboveground, his power had waned with the forgetfulness of man. He no longer maintained the strength of the ancients, like that of the Goblin King. Yet it would not be enough for Sarah. His skill, even without his once-known power, would overpower hers. His blades would find her, and her blood would pour from her wounds, he would drain all life from her body, all for the injustice she had done to his king.

One glance from across the room was all it took.

The space of a heartbeat…

He was too fast. Too fucking fast. Wounds opened upon her body. Red ran in streams down her chest and arms as she blocked his taunting shots. She could no longer keep pace. Forced to her knees, she deflected his blows. The crimson that stained the white marble was now hers, only hers. Sarah Williams would lose. "Gods…NO! Let me save my family, let me save them…" The prayer fell from her lips as she saw, from the corner of her eye, saw the Goblin King's Second ready himself saw him ready the killing blow and wallowed in anguish, knowing that she could not save her family.

"Gabriel."

One word. One fucking word. A mere breath of a whisper, and Gabriel stopped his assault, as commanded by his king. Jareth had heard her plea.

The room had all but cleared but for the broken Guard scattered upon the floor. There was Gabriel, holding her at bay with his knives – coated in her blood. Toby and her Grandfather remained with their attendants. Sarah was no longer afraid of death by Gabriel. Her attention instead, sharply narrowed upon the Goblin King. She felt, rather than saw him stalk towards her. His power raged at her broken, bleeding body. She lifted her head to face him, and tasted the power of the Goblin King. His magic was inside her body, inside her mind. Her scream echoed the chambers of the hall.

Sarah fought the Goblin King and raged against him in her mind, her body thrashing against the floor. Unknown shields formed within her, and forced the Goblin King out, startling Sarah into clarity. Her Grandfather…no! The Goblin King's face formed into a cruel smile as slowly he looked from her to her labored grandfather. He had given her his shields to shut out his power, if only momentarily.

He had been shut out. Yet she would be his. She would bow before him. But she would never grant him the keys to her soul. Mismatched eyes briefly settled upon Sarah's family. With one glance, the Goblin King knew that he had found her price.

Power raged across Sarah's vision. Screams clashed against the empty silence of the room.

Silence.

Blatantly he had attacked her family. Her bound, bleeding family. Watching him, she knew the next would be the final blow. Damn him to hell for the suffering of her family. Damn him for giving her no choice. Her voice was half cry, half sob.

"Wait."

He paused in his movements towards her grandfather, Toby. Black boots coming to rest in front of her achingly beautiful face, marked by the blood of the fighting.

"Why?"

Gods, so simple a question, one word, to fall from his mouth.

"I am willing to make a trade." She spat the words at his fucking boots.

His voice crashed upon her, saturated with the arrogance and regality of his position, all the strengths of his unbelievable power. "What could you possibly offer as trade?"

Sarah Williams began her prayer, a heap upon the feet of her enemy.

Gods, give me strength.

She slowly drew herself to her knees.

Gods, give me courage.

She prepared to speak to the king before her.

Gods, give me sanctuary from the despair to come.

Her voice rang across the room, pure – a semblance of bells in the echo.

"Me."


	4. Remembrance

Time stopped, Death hesitated, and the Goblin King smiled.

His triumph exploded throughout the room – his power tasted of his conquer. She would be his, willingly.

Her grandfather's body shied from the rush of power, but more painful, anguished at Sarah's declaration. All he had fought for was in vain. His beautiful granddaughter would now suffer for the Goblin King. Sharp memories attacked his mind as he remembered what it had been to suffer upon the hands of the fae…

The rogue fae had come upon his manor, bloodlust carved into every region of his face – exquisite beauty; distorted with rage – the mask of a monster. Sarah's grandfather had heard the screams of the children outside, swept up his broadsword into his right hand, his daggers lifted into his left.

The grass was no longer green. Bodies of children littered the lawn, drenched in the crimson blood.

The children, oh gods… the children.

Laughter. Joyous laughter upon a field of defilement, violation. One glance was all it took – Sarah's grandfather saw upon the face of the fae lightened amusement, coated in the blood of children, his _family_.

Afterwards he couldn't remember what happened, what he had done. All he could see in his mind was the ending of the rouge fae, daggers pierced into his belly, the sword sunk to the hilt – through his heart. The monsterous mask no longer snarled or smirked in joy – his life had fled his body. It was then that her grandfather lost unconsciousness.

He awoke to the pain derived from his captor's hands. Chained, naked, blood seeping from innumerable wounds. Screams of confusion tore from his mouth as his body became a canvas for his captor's fury. His own blades drawn against him……

Torture, excruciating agony forever remembered upon his skin. The fae only returned to him to break his body, attempt to break his mind. Unspeakable actions by his captor, to quench his fury, or entertain his guests. They took their pleasure in his humiliation, his abasement…The fae had existed inside their realm for hundreds of centuries – they had been able to perfect the arts of torture during the span of time.

So long he was held inside the stone walls, he no longer sensed the passage of time. Beatings, starvation, despair. One ideal forced him to live – his innate stubbornness became his core, to mix with his hatred of all things fae. Those fuckers would never see him die at their hands. He would take his revenge with all the vengeance allowed to him by the wrathful gods. To create such agony upon another for the sake of pride…..

He would kill them all. He would claim his blades, and make them pray for Hell.

They had been keeping him only to punish him, a _mortal_, for the obliteration of a demi-god fae. Their pride would not allow such a mortal to exist, even when his actions were justified. For her grandfather to survive under the kindly administrations of the fae for so long, his captor had became even more enraged. He was remarkably strong for a mere mortal, but due to the ignorance of his sadist captor, he was able to hide his intelligence. He would make him pay, regardless of his captor's lineage.

In his drunken rages, Sarah's grandfather accrued information crucial to the demise of his captor. He was royalty of the court, related to the King himself. An uncle. A fucking bastard of an uncle in the royal line. Through marriage he had managed to grasp high social status, the court would not have him until he had secured the marriage to a royal female. Even now, the court barely tolerated him.

It was during another of his captor's rages that his captor, obscenely drunk, dropped the blade in his furies against him. That was all it took.

He opened up his captor with his blade, again familiar in his hand. He left him to bleed out upon the floor. His hunt for the others who had enjoyed his treatment took little time. He slaughtered them all, and made their blood run through the giant hallways to rain down upon them from the sky.

His vengeance was not yet complete as he returned to his captor, who remained upon the floor. Rage clouded all thought from his mind. He was not merciful as he delivered true death.

Sarah's grandfather at first didn't understand how he came again to be in the human realm. It was only until later did he realize that his captor had broken the bonds that he had previously placed on Sarah's grandfather. The action had been intended as a last attempt to drag him into hell, but the captor could not control wild magic – and sent him into the human world instead. The blessed irony.

Most important were his new talents, magicks. He had been inside the world of the fae long enough to be "touched" by the otherworldly realm, and on the receiving end of so much fae attention that he was no longer truly mortal; but something more. New talents shown in speed, agility, physical strength, magical prowess, age. At Sarah's birth, he was over 300 years old. Dedicating every waking moment to the destruction of the fae.

And now, his granddaughter had given herself willingly – despair cried from every fiber of his body. If the Goblin King accepted… gods, no. The horrors that would await her in the dungeons, the court…the bedchamber of the King... Sarah had only ever experienced the adrenaline of the fight – nothing of the true nature of the fae. He loved his granddaughter, knew that she was of his line, and therefore stronger than the average mortal. Her spirit overwhelmed many fae, and she could handle herself in almost any situation. But alone against the Goblin King, he knew. He would quench her light, and she would be no more.

Her voice startled him out of his haze.

"Goblin King – Of this I beg you, heal them and send them home, and place them under your personal seal, mandate an order for their protection against any of either of our realms. They will become valuable bounty as soon as they leave. Please Goblin King…please." Sarah's voice cracked with emotion.

"I will be yours, if you can give me these things I ask."

Sarah knelt her face to the floor. The tears would soon come. She could hear her grandfather yell underneath his gag, Toby wailed through his restraints. She knew they would never accept her decision, but she prayed to the gods for the forgiveness of her family.

The Goblin King's voice rang across the marble of the room. Sarah's heart broke. Her grandfather despaired. Toby stiffened – past the point of pain.

"Sarah, I accept your offer."


	5. Sorrow

She had known that he would agree, she had felt his triumph in her very core, and known what he would do.

Already she was crawling to her family upon hands and knees, a mantra chanting from her mouth, "Forgive me, forgive me."

The pain on her grandfather's face was too much; the sight of Toby wrenched her breath from her throat – this goodbye was to be steeled in pain, in loss.

"I love you." Her voice was a sob as she kissed her brother goodbye. She would never see him again, never to hear his stories, never again to see him grow up. A glance to his face, and she truly knew what it was to experience sorrow. Her betrayal was locked within the depths of his eyes – her meager offering was unworthy. Silently, she prayed for his forgiveness…and despaired. She knew it would never come.

For this sacrilege, she would see to it that the Goblin King would suffer. Her pain…..would be nothing compared to his.

Bated breath stopped short within her lungs as Sarah looked to the grandfather she loved so much.

"I love you." Her grandfather's voice mingled with her own. She could only give him what she had given Toby – her love. She could give no more.

Every fiber of her being loved her family, cherished them unlike anything else in life. This, her grandfather had always understood, had treasured. There would be only one thing he could give her to stand against the fae. He prayed it would be enough.

With one kiss, he said goodbye to his only granddaughter.

A shift of his weight placed the edge of his shoe against Toby's leg – the connection would be enough. With one kiss to her forehead, he granted her far more power than she had known existed. He granted her his power, his strength, his knowledge - it was all he could give her against the power of the Goblin King.

"Gods….please……help protect her."

Tears. Blood. Magic. It coursed through her veins, her body aflame. She cried out against the white marble as her body shattered in response to the power. Never before had she taken in such power – her blood sang pleasurable agony.

She reeled upon the blood smeared across the floor and could hear her heartbeat, precisely matched to those she so dearly loved. For a few precious moments, the three could breathe the other's breath; see through each other's eyes.

She looked to her family. Her beautiful family.

The Goblin King raised his hand.

"I love you!" Her cry, broken, echoed against the chamber walls.

They were gone.

They had been sent to the Aboveground, back to the world that waited for them. Back to a world that could no longer claim her. Her deal had been made, at the cost of her family, at the cost of her life... Sarah wallowed in the grief, drowning in the pain.

The hurt….was indescribable. All she had thought about warring was now erroneous, superfluous. She had been wrong. What he had done….unforgivable. Her beautiful family….the only persons she treasured – gone.

Sarah Williams was now truly alone.

She attempted to stumble to her feet. To find her blades. To exact her revenge.

Futile – she could no longer command her body to work, only making it to her knees. Sarah feared, despaired. The curse on her lips stopped abruptly as her breath came short.

Gabriel stood silent as he waited for the command of his King, while the Guard…….the Guard _laughed_. The intertwined voices were warping the air around her, causing her stomach to roll as slowly, she began to lose consciousness from the loss of blood.

The Goblin King stood, remote, as he watched her sway upon his marble floor.

With the slightest stir of his fingertips…the laughing stopped.

Sarah's last conscious understanding was his command to his broken and bleeding Guard, who had managed to rally around their King – barely. Only the Goblin King, Gabriel and the strongest of the Guard had managed to ride the power that Sarah had dispersed. The weakest found themselves on their knees.

The Guard would carry the scars of Sarah's blades through Time, She had made sure that they would never forget who they had tried to best, who they had tried to kill. Only Sarah's eyes gave way to her smile. She had made sure they would remember their failure. It would be forever embedded upon their skin, upon their pride.

His voice…his beautiful voice…was no longer stained with fury. His voice was remote to Sarah – only vaguely could she still comprehend. "Take her to the holding cells – I am finished here." The Guard moved to take her, confine her to her prison. Her own personal Hell.

The black haze shadowed her vision, her mind. No longer could Sarah see, no longer could Sarah feel. The magic would not come to her call, her body no longer responded.

"Gods….please….." Her plea… Sarah no longer knew what she pleaded for.

She reached her hand out, for what – she didn't know, and attempted to fight against the encroaching Dark.

She failed.

The Goblin King's footsteps upon the white marble were a distant sound as Sarah slumped to the white floor, unconscious.


	6. Chained

When Sarah woke within the Dungeons of palace, she hadn't known that she had been unconscious for hours, chained up against the wall. She only knew that she was extremely weak. All of her energy, nearly all of her _being_, had been drained in the fight within the walls of the throne room. Never before had she encountered such strength in so many warriors.

Sarah's body fashioned an "X" upon the stone against her back, and opened to a dank room. The iron that bound her wrists, her ankles had been welded to the stone – they were fashioned well, the workmanship was exquisite. Her heart deadened as she realized she could not release herself from her confines. Only a table furnished the bare surroundings. Her room was lit from the glow of the lamps outside her cell, and gave Sarah a small comfort from the Dark.

A cursory glance down her hanging body was sweet relief : she was fully clothed, the blood that covered her fighting suit was dry, she was no longer bleeding, and she could feel all parts of her body. Her ribs were cracked, of that she was sure. It was possible that she had internal bleeding. Yet she was alive. She sent a prayer of gratitude to the Gods, thanking them for the generosity of her condition. As long as she was whole, and more importantly, as long as she was breathing she could fight, she could exact her revenge.

The guard placed at her cell paced the length of the hall. He had watched her from the other side of the iron bars for the length of an hour, filled with rage. This _girl_ had dared to shame him upon the floor of throne room, his face marred by her blades. Blood still encrusted his face, his eye swollen shut. His rage no longer simply bordered violence, but was manifested fury.

He would make her suffer, his plan already forming as he began to unlock the door to her cell.

It was the sound of the unlatched lock that drew Sarah's attention to him, and fully roused her awake. She realized, with a start, that he was broadcasting his anger. The only experience she had with such broadcasting had come from her grandfather – and only then when he was particularly enraged by rogue fae. Her grandfather had taught her to control her emotions well enough that only rarely he and Toby could ever discern her true feelings. This fae, however, had no desire to mask his emotion. Torrents of rage crashed into Sarah's body – soon she would be violently ill.

One look at him was enough for Sarah to understand – he was going to cause her pain, in the worst ways imaginable. The slow smile appeared drugged to Sarah, as it came upon his face with such leisure. Her gaze dropped from his face to the bulk against his side. The cloth sachet under his arm was gently placed upon the table, almost as if with tenderness. The smile remained on his face, increasing as he unrolled the cloth, revealing gleaming implements of torture.

His voice was rough, harsh. The leisurely, relaxed smile on his face remained.

"You think that _you_, a _mortal_, reserve the right to mark _me_, to mark a member of the King's Guard, as freely as you did? I will exact my price for your grievances against me… I will enjoy every second." The last had been spoken with heat in his voice. Sarah knew…..she knew what he wanted to do to her…….he was going to rape her mind, rape her body, leave her crushed within the stone cell….

His fingers gently grazed his instruments, as if remembering past uses, past victims.

"I will rip you from the inside as I violate your body and break you. You will bleed for me, cry for me, scream for me. You will cry out for me as I destroy you – you can do nothing."

Shining silver winked in the failing light of her holding cell.

"Gods…..help me….." She prayed as the terror welled within her, attempting to send out magicks to release her from her shackles, but the iron was steadfast, and ignored her efforts.

Sarah despaired as none of the spells became effective. Spell after spell was sent, her attempts at physical strength were pitiful. She was too weak – she had expended too much energy, there had been too much blood loss.

She regressed into a state of sheer panic.

"Anyone…….please……" Another unanswered prayer from Sarah's lips.

Nobody was coming for her, nobody would be coming to help her…there was only one option left to her… This filth, this piece of shit, wanted to take her life, take her mind. She would be damned if he took her body too.

A hideous smile graced her lips as she knew what she could do. Always, it had been only a final option. She had never attempted such a feat, but it was her only hope to stop his assault. At this strength, it would cost her her life. Even so…… It would be perfect. In her mind's eye, Sarah coaxed from a small pile of twigs an even smaller flame.

"You smile at Death?" His voice was enraged.

"Death does not come for me, He impatiently he waits for you. He can taste your death upon his tongue – you have not long left to live." Her anger at her vicious captor was fueling the flame, her voice reflected her fury - a striking discord with the emotion storming inside her body – silent prayers sent to the Gods for courage, for strength.

The small flame had grown into a fire.

He came to stand directly before her, and Sarah found herself looking into madness. Never had she seen, never had she experienced true insanity. It was all she could do to steel herself for the small glints of silver in his hands.

She hadn't known that he had begun to cut her, the _flachetes_ were so sharp. Only until Sarah could feel the blood run down her body in rivulets did she realize that he had begun his work. He was systematically reopening all wounds on her body, slicing through all the mending flesh creating many wounds anew. He was going to make her suffer, truly suffer. "Gods, please…..hear my prayer…" It was the last of her silent pleas.

Her fear only encouraged her rage. Sarah hated being afraid.

The fire had grown to roaring proportions; Sarah could feel the heat begin to lick along the veins throughout her body, her blood seared against her skin.

With joyous laughter, she knew her spell was gaining strength. Distantly, she knew she was tapping into the power of her grandfather, but Sarah didn't care. She intended to kill the fae in front of her now, and leave his body blackened by her flames. Never before had she commanded so much power – Her laugh was unholy. Her eyes had bled to kohl, a black so rich, she wavered across the demonic plane. She was drawing energy to kill him, to destroy him…

Painfully, he slammed his body against hers, smashing her into the stone of the wall. The _flachetes_ were drawn across her stomach, across her hips. He pressed the blades into her skin – marking her body. His voice was oily as he whispered against her hair.

"You think that you can hurt me?"

Sarah was forcibly made aware of his arousal against her thigh, as he manipulated the flachetes against her lower belly. She was repulsed, revolted, disgusted, ill.

Her smile was feral; she would make his death unbearable.

"I spared you earlier; it is _you_ who came asking for death." She voice was monotone, emotionless.

"You think you can kill me?"

"Yes."

The stones behind her head split from the concussion of his slap. Sarah was aware of movement, only vaguely so that he was unfastening his pants.

In her mind, Sarah felt the fire explode. She released the fire from her body and against her skin she could feel the heat of the room rise. An orange inferno began to burn up the walls of her cell, burn the space between her and her captor.

Sarah was drowning in flame.

For all her efforts, Sarah's spell wasn't going to be fast enough – he was going to take her body, take her life before she could burn him alive.

Fear, desperation laced her plea as she knew that her spell had taken too long to take hold. "Please? I cannot let this happen…."

His hand now moved towards her clothing, the other to the long dagger placed on the small table. Sarah knew she no longer had any choice. She had to survive. She had to make it back to her family.

Sarah tilted her head back to catch the tears that were forming, trailing down her face as softly, she called out his name.

"Jareth…"


End file.
